


inconsequential talks about life. (or: hey, shut up.)

by thychesters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood - Fandom
Genre: 'someone has a crush on barbara?' jason says 'welcome to the club', Bros bein' bros, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Late Night Stakeouts, jason thinks his brother is having a mid-life crisis but apparently that's mean to say, listen i just wanted some batbros and family bonding, punching each other on the roof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thychesters/pseuds/thychesters
Summary: dick says he thinks damian might have a crush on barbara. jason tells him that from the bottom of his heart he really, truly, does not care in the slightest, but if this will lead to any family drama please tell him everything immediately.(dick has some concerns over damian socializing and making friends; jason is not enthused about sharing his soup thermos because ew, now there are germs on it.)
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson (mentioned), Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne (mentioned), Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	inconsequential talks about life. (or: hey, shut up.)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the line "i think damian has a crush on barbara" and then it spiraled into 2k and no, i don't have any idea what's going on, either. (between this and my last fic [not the smut one omg] jason and dick's narrative styles are a little too similar for my tastes, lmao)
> 
> and yes, i do have a headcanon that barbara has both introduced and read the percy jackson series to damian and you will not take that from me

“I think Damian has a crush on Barbara,” Dick says during a lull, and Jason nearly chokes on the X, Y, and G of his alphabet soup where they lodge in the back of his throat. (Yeah, alphabet soup, what about it. What’s he supposed to bring, tomato? Not without a grilled cheese, thanks.) As he swallows he squints at Dick behind the lens of his domino mask, but his gaze is still fixated on the back door to some dive Oracle sent them to where nothing has happened for the last hour.

“Come again?” he asks, to which Dick shrugs in response or is just shifting his stance from where he’s fallen into a crouch.

“I think he has a crush,” he repeats, and Jason raises his eyebrows and takes another sip from his thermos because oh, this is gonna be good.

“That’s amazing,” he says; Dick glances back his way to scowl. “You’re jealous of a—how old is he again? Like... ten?”

“Thirteen.”

“Ah,” Jason gets out, twisting the cap back onto his thermos and setting it on the rooftop. Gravel shifts under his feet as he moves to sit and regain feeling back in his toes. He sucks on his teeth. “So you’re jealous of a ten year-old.”

Dick’s face falls into such a grimace Jason would put good money on it getting stuck that way.

“I’m not jealous of Damian,” Dick says, and his gaze cuts back to the back door even though both of them know nothing’s going to happen. And guess what: nothing does.

“If you weren’t then why you bring it up?” Jason asks he stretches his legs out before him. He flexes his toes in his boots and hisses at the pins and needles crawling down his right foot and to his ankle. Just because he’s used to boring stakeouts doesn’t make them any easier, any less mind-numbing. He’s starting to think he should have brought a book with him, but then leaving it on the roof with his thermos, exposed to the elements wouldn’t have sat well, and he would never hear the end of it from Barbara. He pulls a face. “You know how weird this makes it? He’s like your little brother slash quasi-son, and you think he has a crush on your girlfriend. I think you need to stop watching _Game of Thrones_.”

Jason ducks away when Dick reaches over in an attempt to swat at him.

“You’re _like_ my brother too, dipshit.”

Jason sniffs, but it sounds more like a snort. “I know, it’s tragic. Thank god we’re not actually related. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

He punches Dick in the arm before he can try to smack him again, and the last thing they need is to get into a scuffle because then Batman will get involved because that pointy-eared bastard gets involved in everything, and it’ll turn into a whole thing. The only reason Jason even agreed to this team-up in the first place was because his leads for Penguin’s latest scheme matched up with what the rest of the family had. (Not to mention it gave him an in on Alfred’s cooking, and his supply of baked good has been dwindling as of late.)

“You know I could push you off this roof?” Dick says, like it’s a legit threaten and Jason’s never taken a plunge off a roof before. Not his first rodeo, partner.

“You wouldn’t. You’re an ass but that wouldn't be very familial of you, y’know? Threatening fratricide.” He grunts. “Shit, I don’t think that’s the right use of the word.”

Dick raises an eyebrow at him and snags his thermos because he is, in fact, a dick. “Fratricide? No, I think you were right for once.”

Jason’s expression falls flat, and he watches Dick take a swig of his soup before passing it back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, and I might commit it myself.”

Dick fakes a gasp and balances on the balls of his feet. Jason makes it a point of wiping the lip of the thermos off with his sleeve. It’s quiet for a few minutes as they watch the alleyway; the smoke spilling out of a grate on a rooftop across the way, twirling up into the rest of the smog; there’s an occasional car horn a few blocks away and star peeking back out of the clouds.

It’s clear Dick still has it on his mind though, so Jason just sighs and rights himself, screwing the lid back on the thermos before settling it between them. Dick glances back his way.

“It’s—okay, look, I’m not gonna say it’s harmless because we both know the kid is far from it.—That was a joke. If he _does_ have a crush, it's a harmless one. It happens. Just... leave him alone, I guess?” He shrugs under his gaze, reaching up to scratch the side of his nose. If Jason had to rattle through a number of conversation points they’d be stuck talking about tonight, Damian blushing around a woman twice his age wasn’t one of them. (It’s a little endearing, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to say that to the kid’s face for the time being. He’s already found one crowbar in his bed.) “As far as you know he might just respect her and enjoy spending time with her; you’re the one being all weird about it. Wait ‘til he starts bringing her flowers and then you can be a little worried.”

Dick rolls his head along his shoulders, and Jason grimaces when his neck cracks. “You got a point, I guess,” he says, and Jason mutters a thanks, he was trying really hard. “I don’t think it’s so much that I’m bothered by the idea of him having a crush on Babs as I am worried about the kid.”

“Afraid her turning him down will crush his spirit?” Jason snorts. The glare he receives has little effect.

“No, I just worry that he doesn’t have a lot of friends or other people to socialize with. There are maybe three people in his life he doesn’t consider family, and I just worry about where he stands outside of Robin.”

“Molehill meet mountain,” Jason says, raising the thermos in a toast before taking the lid off. He moves to tuck his legs up beneath him. “Making friends in general is difficult enough to begin with; the kid spent his entire adolescence learning the best ways to kill a man, which probably isn’t the best talking point for a lot of eight year-olds—”

“—thirteen.”

“— _anyway._ Have you tried talking _to_ him at all, instead of _about_ him? You want him to socialize then you have to engage with him, not sit on the other side of the city hemming an' hawing about it all.”

“You think I haven’t tried that?” Dick asks, scrubbing a gloved hand down his face. Jason holds the thermos out toward him, after debating whether or not he should spit in it first.

“When’s the last time you saw him? Like full on sat down and spent time with him that had nothing to do with Nightwing or Robin? You gotta know the kid’s enamored by you and would probably literally kill to spend some time with you outside of the costume, he just won’t admit it.” He move to a crouch, elbows resting on his knees. “Take him to a Knights game or something, try to give him a chance to be a kid then. ‘s not like you and B fought for custody and you only get him on Tuesdays and every other weekend.”

Dick smirks with just a hint of teeth. He rolls the thermos in his hands. “You got some kids out there we don’t know about?”

“God, I hope not.” Jason squints down in the alley at the slight movement in the shadows, and then a few seconds later spots a stray cat nosing about. “Maybe Ra’s and Talia cloned me. There are a couple dozen other Jasons running around. That’d be awesome.”

“That sounds like an absolute nightmare.” Dick hisses through his teeth. “Dealing with just one of you is taxing enough.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

Dick pulls his full wattage smile then, blocking the punch Jason throws his way.

“Pay attention, would you? We’re supposed to be on a stakeout.”

“Can it, jackass. Don’t make me kick your ass.”

“Ohh, I’m so scared,” Dick intones, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Whatever,” Jason mumbles, reaching for his helmet. Dick opens his mouth again and he decides to beat him to it: “Look, I think we all had a crush on Barbara at some point, okay? It was like a rite of passage for becoming Robin. It never meant anything or went anywhere, but I dunno, I think we all liked her.” Dick gives him a look he can’t decipher for a second, so Jason hums. “She was hot, and she was terrifying, and that was just part of the fun.”

Dick gives him that _hey, shut the fuck up_ look he does sometimes. It’s a fun look and Dick tends to make it at least three times every time they see one another. “Okay, now you’re making this weird.”

“You brought it up!” Jason says, helmet resting on his knee. “I’m not gonna pretend I didn’t have a crush on Barbara at one point, either! You’re the only dope who wasn’t subtle about it, and look where that got you.”

“It got me a girlfriend,” Dick says, and Jason pulls a face, debating whether or not he actually wants to put his helmet on or not yet since he hasn’t finished his soup yet.

“Uh, yeah, maybe after she rejected you for a decade, not to mention you guys have broken up what, twice now? But please, dazzle me with your dating prowess.”

Jason grunts when Dick slugs him in the shoulder. There are other signs of movement in the alley below, and both carefully shift closer to the lip of the roof as voices trail in from the street, followed by footsteps.

“You know she’s been reading Percy Jackson to him?” Dick whispers as they watch two men turn into the mouth of the alley.

“Why the hell are you—” Jason starts, and then turns to him as the two men pause. One of them asks the other for a light; Dick stares back at him for a split second. “Seriously? Which one?”

“Uh, Percy Jackson?” Dick repeats, turning his attention back to the two they’re pretty sure are part of Penguin’s op. The one on the left has a scar on his temple, a jagged line of puckered skin Jason was told to watch out for from his last informant.

“I get that, numb nuts, but which one?”

Dick squints, the scent of nicotine trailing up to the roof they’re perched on. “I don’t know, the first one? Apparently she started doing it when he was sick last week, and when I tried to he kept saying I was getting the voices wrong.”

“Of course you got the voices wrong,” Jason intones, and then without missing a beat and just to get under Dick’s skin (he’ll apologize to Barbara later, because he already feels bad for merely thinking it): “The hot librarian has a better reading voice than you do.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Dick grits out, and Jason can sense the hand coming to swat the back of his head before Dick even raises it.

“Stop hitting me. You’re supposed to be the older, more mature one—not that you’re mature,” Jason mutters. The door opens, a third man poking his head out to call to the other two, and he climbs to his feet, pulling his helmet over his head as Dick cracks his knuckles. He leaves the thermos tucked into the lip of the roof as Jason balances on the edge of it. Dick almost keeps good on his word about pushing him off of it, but that only fuels his momentum as he takes out the first goon.

It isn’t until after, when Jason’s eyeing the split in his knuckle and Dick’s checking to see if his molar isn’t impacted, that he realizes there’s a pretty good chance Oracle heard everything.

(Turns out no, Dick does _not_ get the voices right, and Barbara finds his concern adorable. Jason's sure to gag loudly into the comms.)


End file.
